This Ain't Love: MC Romance (BDMC: Second Generation Book 1)

by A. M. Myers

  Once the coffee is ready, I fill up a mug and set it back on the coffee maker to keep it warm before I step out onto the deck. As I settle into one of the chairs, I pull my phone out of the pocket of my sweats. After Luca sped off, the cops that remained on the scene turned to us and all of the sudden, we were the criminals. It took hours for them to take each one of our statements since they would come back to someone they’d already interviewed and ask them more questions, trying to trip them up. Finally, four hours later, they let us go and said they’d be in touch. Whatever though. I know how to handle them and right now, I’m much more concerned about the license plate we were able to get over to Streak and finding out just who the hell Luca is. For the first time, it feels like we have a real lead and I can’t wait to get answers.

  Glancing at the time again, I wince. Streak is a fucking asshole when you wake him up but there is a good chance he’s been burning the midnight oil, working on this since we sent it over to him and I decide to take the risk as I video call him. He accepts the call almost immediately and his face appears on the screen.

  “Yo,” he answers. His hair looks like it’s been yanked in every direction and he has dark circles under his eyes. It’s not that I want to see my brother looking like hell but there is a comfort in knowing that he takes this as seriously as I do, that he’s spent all night finding me whatever information he could.

  “Hey,” I answer, taking a sip of my coffee. “How’s the search going?”

  He scoffs, gesturing to his face. “Very well, obviously. You look like hell though.”

  “Fucking smartass. I couldn’t sleep.” That’s the simplest answer I can give him without going into gory details about the torture fantasies I’ve fostered in the last few hours. He nods as he leans back in his chair.

  “I hear ya. There was no way in hell I was going to be able to crash after y’all sent me that plate number.”

  I nod. “You got anything yet?”

  “I do,” he answers, leaning forward and flipping his camera so I can see the screen of his computer. “I present to you Luca Slater, out of New York.”

  Scowling, I set my mug down on the table in front of me before propping my phone up against it. “New York? Any idea what he’s doing here?”

  Streak scoffs, turning the camera back to face him. “Nope. I can see from credit card records that he got to town about nine months ago and he rents an apartment over in the shitty part of town but as far as I can tell, he doesn’t have an actual job other than killing people in dark alleys.”

  “Fuck,” I hiss as the image of Izzy in that alley pops into my mind. I’ve only seen the photos that were included in the report Mobley was able to slip to me but I have no trouble imagining everything Izzy described to me about what went down that night.

  “Look, I’ll keep digging but I think our best bet is to have someone sitting on his apartment, see who is coming and going, you know? Maybe he’ll even lead us back to the other guy in the alley or someone higher up.”

  I nod. We toyed around with the idea that Luca was working for someone else, someone bigger than him and someone with more power but we haven’t seen any more evidence of that. At this point, I would love for it just to be Luca so we could deal with him and put all this shit behind us.

  “You still thinking there could be someone else behind all this?” I ask and Streak shrugs.

  “Only one way to find out.”

  “Yeah, I suppose,” I say before sighing and scrubbing a hand over my face. My eyes are burning and all I want to do is go crawl back into bed with Iz. “Text me the address and I’ll make some phone calls.”

  He salutes me in response before hanging up. Turning to look out at the sun as it filters through the trees, I sigh. I’m happy that there is some kind of progress in this whole thing but it still doesn’t feel fast enough to me. If I could have things my way, this would already be over since Izzy is almost thirty weeks pregnant with our boy. I want all of this shit behind us before he makes his grand entrance but that is looking less and less likely every day.

  It’s going to give me a goddamn ulcer.

  My phone beeps with a text and I lean forward to grab it off the table as I take my mug with my other hand before taking a sip of coffee. I take a screenshot of Streak’s text with Luca’s address before dialing Fuzz’s number. He’s someone who works with me regularly at the P.I. firm and as a former cop himself, I know he can handle this.

  “This better be fucking good,” he growls as soon as he picks up the phone and I laugh, grabbing my coffee and leaning back in my chair.

  “Morning to you, too, Princess.”

  He groans. “Fuck you, Smoke. It’s too goddamn early for this shit. You need something or are you just calling to piss me off?”

  “God,” I scoff. “You’re as chipper as Streak is in the morning.”

  “Get to the fucking point, brother.”

  I quickly fill him in on what happened last night at the radio station as well as my conversation with Streak before asking him to put together a team to sit on Luca’s apartment twenty-four-seven.

  “Okay, I can do that,” he says when I’m finished, sounding more alert and cooperative. I can’t really blame him for the attitude though. He was probably in bed with his wife, Piper, and Lord knows I would be an asshole if someone pulled me away from Izzy at four in the morning. “Anything specific we’re looking for?”

  “We need to figure out who the hell this second guy is so take one of the Nikons and anytime someone goes into Luca’s building, snap a pic. We’ll show ‘em to Izzy and she can point him out to us.”

  “‘Kay. I’ll bring in Gear, Jump, and maybe Maverick…”

  I shake my head. “Not Maverick or Henn. Luca has seen them and knows they’re with us so choose people he won’t know and keep a low profile. Besides, Henn is laid up after taking a bullet last night and we need some goddamn answers here.”

  “Yeah. I fucking hear you. How’s Izzy doing after last night?”

  I sigh, running my hand through my hair as I stare off into the distance. “Don’t know… she won’t really talk to me.”

  “I know how that goes,” he scoffs. “But you just gotta keep trying. Unless you don’t intend to make this official and make her your old lady.”

  Nodding, I grab my mug off the table and take another sip of coffee. “I’m working on it.”

  “All right.” He laughs. “Well, good luck with that. I’m gonna head into the clubhouse and get a team put together.”

  “Thanks for handling this for me, man,” I say. Any of my brothers would have done this for me but since I’ve worked so closely with Fuzz at the business, I know how he works and it’s very similar to the way I handle things. It will mean that I don’t have to stress about that side of the investigation and I can put all my focus into keeping Izzy safe. Once we have everything sorted, I hang up and send over the screenshot with Luca’s address on it. He gets back to me quickly, letting me know that he’ll check in often and instruct the others to do the same, giving me even more peace of mind.

  Now, I just have to hope we can put an end to this shit.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Isabelle

  As I’m dragged back into consciousness against my will, I reach across the bed in search of Diego so I can cuddle back into his side and drift back to sleep but instead, I find cold sheets and a heaping pile of disappointment. Peeling my eyes open with a scowl, I examine the spot where he’s supposed to be before turning toward the window. The sky is just beginning to lighten and the sweet chirping of birds fill the air, beckoning the rest of the world to rise. I glance over at the bedroom door and stare at it for a moment before sighing and throwing the covers off my legs. As I move to sit on the edge of the bed, I grab my phone off of the nightstand and rub my eyes.

  “Fuck me,” I whisper when I get a glimpse of the time. It’s a half past four in the morning and I can’t, for the life of me, understand why the hell Diego isn’t in bed wit
h me. After the events of last night, we were both dead on our feet when we walked through the door at one in the morning but sleep eluded us for a while. I suspect we both were replaying the events of the evening over and over again in our minds. We didn’t talk about it though. At some point, I must have drifted off because the last thing I remember is wrapping myself around Diego and tracing over the lines of his tattoos with my finger. Something about it made me feel safe and protected despite the fact that we were literally shot at only hours before.

  Setting my phone down, I drop my head into my hands as I replay the memory of crawling around the truck and finding Diego on the ground. My chest aches. As I lift my head, I press one of my hands over my heart like I can somehow block the pain of the image but it doesn’t work. Not that I truly expected it to. I have a feeling that seeing Diego on the ground like that and not knowing if he was hurt will haunt me for a long time. The ache seems to increase the more I linger on that particular memory so I shove it away and stand, pulling Diego’s t-shirt over my head before striding to the door and pulling it open.

  The rich aroma of coffee hits my nose but the house is silent, nagging at me, and my need to find Diego feels even more urgent than before. I bypass the pot of coffee and walk to the back door, breathing a sigh of relief when I see him sitting in one of the chairs, staring out at the forest surrounding us. As I slide the door open, his phone starts ringing so he doesn’t hear me and I pause. Should I just go back inside and let him talk in peace? I know it’s the polite thing to do but it’s also the exact opposite of what I want and I chew on my bottom lip as he answers, putting the call on speakerphone.

  “Hey, Mom. It’s pretty early for you to call. Everything okay?” he says, holding the phone out in front of him as he grabs a mug of coffee and takes a sip.

  “You tell me. I’ve been feeling like I needed to reach out to you all night long.”

  Diego laughs. “As always, your intuition is impeccable.”

  “What happened?” she asks and he sighs before relaying the story of what went down at the radio station to her, leaving out the fact that he took two bullets in his vest. That’s probably for the best though. Placing a hand on my belly, I can’t help but think how upset I would be to hear that my son was being shot at by a psycho.

  “My God, Diego,” she whispers when he finishes the story, letting out a disapproving tsk. “You certainly live an interesting life, don’t you?”

  “If you were still a cop, you would have had backup,” a man grumbles, the judgement in his tone, making my hackles rise. I take a step forward before stopping myself from marching over there and giving the man a piece of my mind. I don’t know who the hell he is but I hate the way he’s speaking to Diego and I won’t stand for it.

  “I did have backup, Dad.”

  His dad scoffs. “A bunch of criminal bikers is not backup.”

  “Daniel, please,” Diego’s mother says, a plea in her voice that I don’t understand. Leaning against the door frame, I cross my arms over my chest, too invested now to walk away.

  “Don’t you scold me, woman,” he snaps back and I arch a brow. Oh, hell no. Any man ever talked to me like that and I would smack him right across the face. Diego’s mother seems to have more patience than me though. “He’s the one who quit a good job as a police officer to become a goddamn biker, bringing shame and disappointment to our family. If he doesn’t like the way I speak to him now, he should have made a different choice.”

  “Dad, how many times do I have to tell you that the club isn’t a bunch of criminals? We fucking help people. Hell, I help more people now than I ever did as a cop.”

  A noise of disapproval is his father’s only response and the way Diego’s shoulders sag breaks my fucking heart.

  “Let’s change the subject, mijo. Anything else going on lately?”

  He nods, squaring his shoulders as he turns to look at the sun as it rises through the trees. “Yeah, actually. I’ve been meaning to call you to tell you that you’re going to be a grandma.”

  Oh, shit.

  My stomach flips as I wait for her response.

  Diego and I haven’t spent a whole lot of time talking about our families so I know next to nothing about his parents which also means I have no way to gauge how she is going to react to the news.

  “Oh!” she squeals and in an instant, a smile tugs at my lips. “You’re going to be a father? Who is the lucky lady?”

  Diego laughs. “Her name is Isabelle.”

  “Isabelle,” his mother answers and I can hear the smile in her voice. It eases my fears and warms my heart to know that she is happy for us. “Such a pretty name. Where did you meet her?”

  “Through friends.”

  “Well, how far along is she?”

  Diego’s smile falters for just a second and I wince because I know he’s going to have to tell her that I hid the pregnancy from him for so long. “Twenty-nine weeks.”

  “Oh,” she gasps. “So far along. Did you not know until now or…”

  Her question hangs in the air, making my heart race and my stomach flip again. God, when I was going through all of the early pregnancy stuff, I never thought about this part. I never considered that not only would I be held accountable for my actions by Diego but also by his family. And they might not like what they’re going to hear.

  “I found out about three weeks ago.”

  “Why?” she whispers. Blood rushes to my cheeks and a wave of nausea washes over me as my mind flicks through all of the stupid decisions I made at the start of this journey. God, if I had just come to Diego to begin with, then none of the crap with Luca would have happened and he wouldn’t have to explain to his mother that I’m a horrid bitch.

  “I think she was scared and had to find a way to accept it on her own before she told me.”

  Jesus.

  The man gives me more grace than I deserve.

  “So, this was a surprise?”

  Diego nods, his smile returning. “It was but a good one. Izzy didn’t even think she could have kids anymore until she got pregnant.”

  “Then it was meant to be and sounds like a wonderful blessing for both of you,” she answers and I shake my head in disbelief. The woman is a freaking saint and it’s clear to me that Diego takes after her and not his father. Rubbing my hand over my belly, I look down at my bump and tears sting my eyes at all the love that is going to be in my son’s life. The questions return to me and Diego tells her what little he knows about me, his smile never fading as he describes me to his mother and as I watch him, my breath gets caught in my throat because I can see it now - his feelings for me - and I don’t know what to do. Normally, I would run but that urge isn’t there this time. I also don’t want to rush over there and tell him I’ll give things a chance between us but it is different than before.

  “Mijo…” she whispers once her questions die off. “You sound like you love this girl.”

  Okay.

  We’re going there, I guess.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, it occurs to me that I should be nervous or losing my shit over how Diego is going to answer this question but I’m not. And I think it’s because I already know.

  “I do, Mom. She’s absolutely incredible and I would be lucky as hell to get to spend the rest of my life with her.”

  His mother laughs, the sound full of a pure kind of joy that I’ve rarely heard in my life. “That’s wonderful, Diego.”

  “So, you’re marrying her then?” his father cuts in. The word marriage sends a spike of cold hard fear piercing through my body and my heart races in my chest as Diego grimaces, shaking his head.

  “It’s complicated.”

  Another tsk of disappointment drifts through the phone. “Just when I think you can’t embarrass me any further, you go and knock up some girl.”

  The way he snarls the word girl sends a wave of unease rushing through me and I wince, cradling my belly like somehow I can protect myself and my baby from this man. I’ve
never been ashamed of who I am or how I chose to live my life but hearing Diego’s father cast judgement on me makes my skin crawl. A band squeezes my ribs and for the second time in the last twelve hours, I hate the choices I’ve made up until this point. How in the hell did someone as amazing as Diego come from this angry, rude, unreasonable man?

  “Hey,” Diego growls, leaning forward in his chair. “You say whatever the fuck you want about me but you will not treat Izzy with anything other than respect.”

  “What are you going to do, son? You going to come hit your old man for calling your whore a whore?”

  “You’re goddamn right…”

  “Daniel!” Diego’s mom screams, drowning out any other ugliness from her husband and cutting her son off in an instant. “You’re done here. Go away.”

  Something crashes in the background. “You don’t tell me what to do, Carmen.”

  “Leave now or I swear to God, I will call my brothers to throw you out on your miserable ass,” she hisses, her voice dripping with venom and I want to cheer for her. I don’t know their situation, at all, but I’ve met men like Daniel before and it’s better for everyone to just steer clear. Silence stretches between us and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip as I wait for his response but it never comes. Finally, Carmen sighs. “I’m so sorry about that, baby.”

  “I’m used to it, Mom, but I won’t let him do that shit to Izzy.”

  She sighs again. “You shouldn’t be used to it. I fear… I think I’ve failed you as a mother.”

  “That’s not true,” Diego replies, his voice soft and so incredibly kind that tears sting my eyes and my chest aches. “You’re an incredible mother but you, unfortunately, have shit taste in men.”

  “Well, I can’t argue with that,” she answers, laughing, but it doesn’t sound genuine and I can imagine the pain she’s feeling. Couldn’t the same be said for me? I had shit taste in men and it led to me to shutting the world out for the last fourteen years. Until my weekend with Diego.